


Out of the Rain

by Jael



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caught in the Rain trope, F/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7834849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of smut with romance. (Romance with smut?) Sometimes you just want to throw your OTP into a deserted cabin during a thunderstorm, am I right? (AU: The events of Destiny happened up to a point, then everything changed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> I just adore the Caught in the Rain trope. And I adore CaptainCanary. So this happened. 
> 
> (For the record, the events of Destiny happened right up until just before the kiss. Then...plot device!)
> 
> For all my fellow CC fanfic writers in honor of Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day! And, as usual, a tip of the hat and many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta read!

 

It was, quite probably, predictable. 

Sometimes the new gig of protecting the timeline involves finding renegade or illicit time travelers and neutralizing them ... in one way or another. Sometimes it's about making sure something that needs to happen, happens--that two people meet, or that the right bit of information gets to the right person at the right time. (Or the reverse, really.) And sometimes it's retrieving an object that's somehow out of its own time, whether by someone's design or an accident.  

This is one of those times.  

Unfortunately, there's no way of knowing which time traveler (Time Master, bounty hunter, or time pirate) carelessly left a jump ship in the mountains of rural New York State, but something had to be done about that before someone … whether supervillain or middle-schooler … finds it. The plan is simple. 

Of course, the plan doesn't last all that long. 

* * *

They've completely lost track of where they are at this point, lost track of which direction they're supposed to be running in. The addition of the dark clouds, gusting winds, and then, sheeting, freezing rain, seals it.  

He hears her voice shouting over the roar of the wind, but can't quite make the words out.  

But when she suddenly peels off and cuts to the right, through the trees, he follows.  

A few minutes later, starting to skid a little on the ice-covered leaves, he sees what she apparently saw:  a dark shape looming in the trees. A cabin?  

They look deserted. And it feels like the temperature has plummeted about 20 degrees in the past few moments, so he follows with alacrity, or as much as he can manage.  

Sara pounds up onto the tiny porch of the structure, rattles the doorknob, and throws him a glance as he vaults up the steps after her.  

Good thing he carries lock picks, and of course, she's counted on that. His fingers are numb and there's a bit of cursing involved, but she manages to block a bit of the wind and precipitation from his hands and, after a moment, the lock clicks.  

They're inside in a heartbeat, the door locked behind them, leaning against it and listening for sounds of pursuit.  

There are none. Only the howl of the elements.  

Eventually, Sara straightens, wincing and hugging her arms around her. "Well, any port in a storm, I guess. Why didn't we think to ask Gideon about the weather forecast?"  

"Because it’s only October, which seems a little early for this crap. Because neither of us really realized how way the hell out in the middle of nowhere this particular middle of nowhere was. And we didn't know the ship was beyond all repair anyway, or that we were going to have to trigger the self-destruct and run like hell instead of flying it back to the Waverider like we'd planned." He yanks back the hood of his parka—sending a spray of icy water flying--and sighs. "I don't think there was anyone around to see, though. And now no one's going to go all 'Flight of the Navigator' on us." 

"Ha." She taps her comm, frowns, then taps it again. "Is your comm working?" 

"Nope. Went dead at some point after the explosion, probably about the time this mess started." 

"Lovely. So we're stuck here for now. Because I got all turned around; I have no idea where we are; do you?" At the shake of his head, she gives the switch at the side of the front door an experimental flip. Nothing. “Lovely.” 

“Place looks deserted. Which isn’t surprising, if this was in the forecast." A rumble of thunder greets his words, barely audible over the racket of the rain on the roof. “Hunting cabin, maybe. Might be a generator out there...” 

“I didn’t see anything.” Sara unclips a flashlight from her belt and thumbing on the small light, shines it around. 

The light reveals a small, relatively spare space. A miniscule kitchen with a fridge, two stove burners and a tiny counter. A table in another corner. A door that presumably conceals a bathroom. A bed, stripped to the mattress. 

"All the comforts of home," Sara sighs. He glances at her and frowns. 

"You're soaked. And you're shivering." 

"So are you." She motions to the parka. "Even that thing's wet through. Jesus, it's cold. I wonder if anyone left a change of clothes in here." 

She pulls her batons from where they rest, just in case, in the loop attached to her belt, bobbling them as she does. She catches one, he catches the other, handing it back to her without comment.  

His fingers brush her hand, and she jumps.  

"Christ, Snart, your hands are like ice." She holds up a hand warningly. "Don't even. If I get a cold-related pun, I am not responsible for my actions."  

He huffs out what might be a laugh, the tiniest exhalation of air. "Well. So are yours." Greatly daring, he wraps his fingers fully around hers. 

She raises her eyes slowly to his, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth … only to jump as a crack of thunder echoes around them. 

"I really hate storms," she mutters to herself, shivering visibly again. "Have I ever told you that?" 

"A time or two." He resists the urge to say something he really shouldn't, unclipping a flashlight from his own belt. "Let's see what's in here." 

Someone's left a bag of apples and a flat of bottled water in the fridge and a box of crackers in the cupboard. He finds a half-dozen dusty candles and a couple packs of matches, too, and sets them on the counter. 

Sara's been going through the chest of drawers near the bed and has dragged out an armload of bedding, including a warm-looking comforter, which she's deposited on the bed. As she moves toward the bathroom, he takes a bite out of an apple and shrugs out of his sodden coat, draping it over the back of a chair, where it commences dripping onto the tiles below. 

Cold puns aside, he really is freezing. And given that he can pretty much hear her teeth chattering from here, so is she. 

The wind rattles the windows and door again as the icy rain continues to hiss down and the rumbles grow louder, and he knows it's only a matter of time before they're left without light or heat. 

He's trying not to think about it. 

Sara emerges from the bathroom with a sigh. "Couple of thin towels here. Nothing else." 

"Any hot water?" 

But she shakes her head. "Must be well water. No power, no water. I hope people don't really pay to stay here." 

"Probably sort of nice in full summer..." 

"I don't really see you as the camping type." They're lapsing into their usual banter here. It's familiar. Safe. 

"I'm not." He watches as she visibly shivers again. "Sara..." 

"What?" Annoyance in her tone. She hates showing weakness. He understands completely. 

"Don't throw anything at me," he warns, "but you need to get out of those wet clothes." 

At her exasperated sigh, he holds up a hand. "I'll go in the bathroom or turn my back. OK? Do that, dry off, wrap up in that comforter. Get _warm._ " 

She stares at him for a moment, then shakes her head. "What about you?" 

"What about me?" He gives her a smirk. "You know me. I like the cold." 

"Snart, your lips are turning blue." 

Once, he might have dared her to warm them up. "Are not." 

"Real mature." She's crossed the room to stand a few feet from him. Is she looking at his lips? She is. He's not sure whether to smirk or... 

There's another crack of thunder and she … giggles? 

"What's so funny?" 

"It's like a bad sitcom." She waves a hand at their surroundings. "Take the two characters with the most … unresolved sexual tension … and strand them together in a deserted cabin. With not much more than a bed. During a storm. Even better, make sure they're both freezing. Bonus points if there’s no power." 

He's nonplussed. "That's … us?" 

"Isn't it?" She's very near, now, but she's not looking at his lips; she's looking into his eyes and he knows he should look away, but … "Snart … Leonard. Why have you been avoiding me?" 

"I haven't." Even he knows he's not convincing. 

"Jerk. Yes, you have. Ever since we defeated Savage." She takes a deep breath. "You pulled that 'me and you' line on me... then nearly made me leave you at the wellspring..." 

"I didn't have any better ideas until Raymond came flying back with that gadget..." 

"Then you stayed with me after I found out about … Laurel … which I don't know that I've ever really thanked you for. But I've barely seen you since. I enter a room, and you leave. You used to always be nearby, now you keep your distance. I miss playing cards. I miss bitching about Rip. I miss _you_. What happened?" 

"I..." She _missed_ him? "I didn't want to pressure you." 

"So you vanished?” She takes a step closer to him, still wearing the oddest expression. She doesn’t seem to be upset, but…focused? “That's not fair." 

"Sara, I seriously screwed up at the Vanishing Point. I know that. And then … you were going through a lot. Your sis..." 

"Yes. And I needed the people I cared about." 

Startled, he stops mid-word.  

"And you were there for me that awful day. And night. Don't think I don't appreciate that. But then I figured you must have had … second thoughts..." Her lips twitch. "You never did steal that kiss. And I _know_ you're a hell of a thief." 

"You wanted me to..." 

"It's sweet that you're being a gentleman... and if you're good, I'll never, _ever_ tell Ray. But I don't want you to be a gentleman anymore. If you'd stayed in the same room with me, before now, for more than a second or two, I'd have told you that sooner." 

They stare at each other. 

But the fact is, Leonard Snart is no idiot. And he's tired of things keeping him up at night. He takes one step forward … she's moved so close that that's all he needs … wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her toward him... 

But the moment their lips touch, thunder roars, an incandescent flash of light is visible through the window shades … and they both start, pulling back and reaching for weapons they don’t need. 

They stand in the utter darkness for a heartbeat. Then Sara bursts out laughing. 

"You … so how did you manage the special effects, Sn..." 

Enough waiting. He wraps his other arm around her, too, and closes what had already been a miniscule gap between them. 

Ignoring the slight "squish." 

* * *

She’s been wondering for a while now what kind of kisser he’d be. 

Arrogant, trying to take over, like the image he takes such pains to show the world? (But not so much to her, these days.) Gentle, warm, like the light she’s seen in his eyes a time or two when he looks at her? Or just goddamn… _hot_ …like the sparks that ignite between them when they’re not being cautious? (And sometimes when they are?) 

As unlikely as it sounds, it turns out to be a bit of all three. 

He’s certainly not diffident as he pulls her flush against him, as his mouth lands, hard, on hers, as his tongue (so sweet, like the apple he’d been eating) sweeps into her mouth as she laughs again in surprise. But it’s somehow gentle, too. His right hand moves up to cradle the back of her head; he backs off after a second to sweep his lips softly against hers before kissing her deeply again. 

And hot? _Yes_. She doesn’t bother to bite back a moan as his teeth catch very gently at her bottom lip, then brings her hands up to his head to pull him closer and return the favor. 

By the time they separate, they’re both breathing heavily. She’s grinning; she can feel the foolish smile on her face. It’s dark in the cabin, but they’re still close enough that she can see the edge of the smile that lifts a corner of his mouth as well. (Especially since the lightning keeps flashing.) 

"I'm surprised this place hasn't turned into a sauna," she jokes. 

"Eh. No. Anyway, still soaked." He plucks at his shirt with distaste. 

"Yeah, I bet those wet jeans aren't very comfortable right now," she muses, then laughs again at his expression. 

"Not very, no." He gives her a direct look. "You can't be very comfortable, either." 

"Hmm. Nope. Not really." She reaches down to grab the lower hem of her sweater, lifting her eyebrows at him. 

He takes a deep breath and...turns away. Toward the candle.  

"I think we can afford to light one or two of these..." 

* * *

He's not Mick, to find peace of an odd sort in the contemplation of a flame. But now, at this moment, he can understand the appeal. 

He takes a deep breath. 

There have been people, over the years. Not many. And aside from one youthful fling, no one he’d truly cared about.  

Not like Sara. 

He knows he has his issues. He’s already tackled a lot of those, letting her into his head (his heart, an inner voice whispers) in the first place. Confession of hopes for the future had been distinctly uncharacteristic, a rare, raw moment, and after her challenge and the near-disaster at the Oculus, he’d retreated, trying to do the right thing in a way that was worthy of her, giving her space. Apparently, that had been a mistake. 

If he’s being honest, he’d been a coward, really. Too scared of the intensity of what he feels for her. 

But now… 

Thwack! A wet towel lands partially over his shoulder, breaking into his contemplation, and he jumps. Half-turning, he aims a mock-glare at… 

She’s standing there. Smiling at him. Absolutely naked, having rid herself of the cold, wet clothes and toweled off as much as possible while he’d been musing. Every curve highlighted by the flickering, warm light of the single flame. 

His mouth goes dry. And those sodden jeans are suddenly even more uncomfortable. 

“It’s cold,” she says simply. “I’m going to go curl up under the comforter. You really should get out of those wet clothes, too. If you want to just get under the covers on the other side, that’s OK. But if you want to…share some warmth…I’d welcome that.” 

And with a grin, she matches actions to words, turning and walking slowly and un-self-consciously over to the bed, where she neatly tucks in the sheets, spreads out a blanket and the comforter, and—with a wink back at his frozen form—slips in underneath them. 

When she’s a Sara-shaped lump under the covers, he breathes again.  

He’s not sure if she’s handled things this way because she’s twigged to his own…issues, but he’s grateful. 

And turned on. Extremely turned on. The jeans have got to go. 

He casts another glance toward the bed, then grimaces and starts peeling off the wet, clinging shirt and the soaked jeans. Not fun. Not nearly as much fun as this probably should be. But it’s giving him a chance to do this without the near panic attack that the idea of purposefully baring scars and more can bring. 

And he hadn’t even needed to articulate that. She’d understood. Grabbing the towel and glancing toward the bed again, he shakes his head at the marvel that is Sara Lance. 

Besides. Maybe they’ll can work their way up to that sometime when it’s not so cold. 

A touch self-consciously even though she’s still buried in the blankets, he gathers both towels and crosses the floor to hang them in the bathroom, choosing at the last minute to drape one around his hips even though it’s damp. Then, taking a deep breath, he walks to the bed, drops the towel and slides beneath the blankets before he can think about it. 

_Le_ _n_ _, you have issues; you know that, don't you?_  

He glances over at her, blond hair lying on the pillow, eyes closed...and for a moment, thinks she's fallen asleep. Then she cracks an eye...and grins at him. 

"Finally decided to join me?" 

"Apparently," he drawls to hide the self-consciousness. "Seems cozy." 

"Mmm." She props herself up on one elbow, which lets the comforter fall down in a way that gives a rather tantalizing glimpse of what's underneath. "You know...there's no pressure here, right?" 

He raises an eyebrow at her to avoid the fact that he doesn't know what to say. 

"OK, I was definitely coming on to you. And," she licks her lips, "I'd like to see out this storm with certain activities in a rather more private location than the Waverider. But I’m also willing to just wrap up in a blanket, huddle up a bit for warmth, and wait things out. Talk a little bit? If you're not, after all, interest..." 

It's just as well she says that. It spurs him to make the leap past his issues, move forward, and capture her lips with his again. 

Her laugh turns into a sort of purr, and she immediately brings both hands up to cup his face, leaning into the kiss with such intensity he immediately forgets the chill in the air. As thunder rumbles again in the background, she scoots over just close enough that he can feel the warmth of her body against his, even though the only parts touching right now are lips and teeth and tongues... 

He moves his own hands up and curves them around her bare shoulders, not quite pulling her forward, tilts his head to deepen the kiss as one of her hands moves to cup the back of his head. 

When they part, they're both breathing heavily, and neither one of them is even a trifle cold. 

"Damn," Sara whispers. "Why didn't we do this sooner?" 

He thinks she's trying for a joke, but they both know there's an edge of seriousness to it.  And so many answers to that question. 

But he goes for humor too. "Thin walls on the Waverider?" 

"Mmmmmm...well, better late than never." 

She only moves only a fraction of an inch closer, but now he can feel parts of her just barely brushing parts of him: her breasts against his chest, one thigh sliding against his. His hands slide down her bare back to her hips, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. 

Her hands move to his shoulders, and she leaves them there for a moment, studying him. 

He wonders what she sees. 

* * *

Leonard Snart with all his masks on is a handsome man. 

Leonard Snart with his masks off and that slightly soft, wondering expression on his face is taking her breath away. 

_Admit it, Sara, you're a sucker for the "bad boys" … and girls … with a hidden soft side._  

She rubs her thumbs gently against his collarbone, feeling a few small scars but not lingering over them. Some knowledge of his past...and the fact that she'd never seen the man in less than long sleeves and generally several layers...had led her to give him the out as far as undressing in front of her, and now she's glad she did.  

But, damn, if she wouldn't like to see more of him than the bit of bare chest she's getting at the moment. 

"Second thoughts?" 

His voice breaks into her musings and she blinks, returning her gaze to his face. He's wearing a slight smile, but there'd been something in his voice...did he really think she was rethinking this? 

"Are you kidding me?" Humor...and truth...seem to be the best way to deal with that. "I was just wondering if you were going to let me see what's below the blanket."  

And she licks her lips. Slowly. Deliberately. Leaving absolutely no doubt about the lasciviousness in her voice.  

He blinks now. Raises his eyebrows. Grins back at her. Oh, yes, _there'_ s her partner in crime. The one who challenges her, who backs her up, who... 

They close the distance pretty much simultaneously, mouths clashing together, no longer bothering to keep any form of distance. His hands slide to her ass (she laughs against his mouth, feeling his smirk); one of her hands snakes down along his chest, caressing, eventually brushing against what seems to be a rather impressive erection. 

She laughs at the noise he makes and, grinning, returns to wrap a rather firm grip around him. 

"My, I have been missing out. Why..." 

Then it's her turn to yelp as he moves, abruptly, turning her onto her back and moving so that he's on top of her, most of his weight taken up by his arms, but, oh, how the rest of that weight is distributed... 

He's grinning at her, and it's a real grin, and the view in the candlelight is a fine one, so she makes quite a show of running her eyes down his body...the most of its she's seen yet...in a very speculative fashion, making it perfectly clear she approves. And then she runs her hands down his back, settling them at the small of his back...and pulls down firmly, rocking her hips against his. 

Yes, indeed, that noise he makes is _quite_ satisfying. 

To her surprise, though, he takes another shuddering breath, then moves away a fraction of an inch, giving her a _look_ that has her both flushed and a bit frustrated. 

The latter vanishes, though, when he leans forward a little, whispering in her ear in that drawl that can send chills down her spine without so much as a brush of fingertips. "In a hurry?"  

A crack of thunder again, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminates the room. "No," she tells him, reaching back up to curl her hands about his shoulders. "Why?" 

Yes, she could grow to...love...that smile. Her innate surprise at even a mental use of that word is sidelined, though, as he kisses her again, tongue tracing her lips, before moving his mouth to her jaw, her collarbone, her... 

OK, she can acknowledge the powerful nature of a revenge motive as she considers the noise she makes as his mouth traces, then closes around, a nipple, warm and insistent.  

A few minutes later, he raises his head and she wants to kiss the smirk off his face. "OK there?"  

"Jerk." She tries to pull his head back down, but he resists.  

"I figure, we have some time here..." 

"That doesn't mean you can't...oh...." He's returned his mouth to its previous position, but his right hand, oh, his hand, with those long, sensitive fingers, is tracing her other nipple, her breast, then trailing downward against her stomach, her thighs. 

"Tease," she mutters as those fingers continue to trace their gentle circles against sensitive flesh. 

"Are you saying you'd like me to _do_ something?" 

"Yes! I...ooooh..." 

Everything she's ever mused about those talented fingers? True. Too goddamned true. She lets her head fall back, closing her eyes as he moves his mouth to the other breast and those fingers move in, out, in, around… 

It could be minutes, could be an hour; she’s not entirely sure, but after what seems to be a long and immeasurably pleasurable time, she gasps his name, back arching off the mattress as his mouth moves back to hers and those fingers give one last, lingering caress. 

He pulls away, just a little, eyes meeting hers again. And, damn, he looks smug. 

“OK?” 

“Hmm.” She takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “Wondering _again_ why we didn’t do this sooner.” 

That gets a chuckle. And a bit of truth. “Too many issues.” 

“Yours or mine?” 

“Mmmmmm.” There’s quite a gleam in the pale blue eyes. “I can only speak to half that equation. But… we’re here now.” 

“True.” She moves abruptly, surging up to kiss him, one hand on his jaw, the other curving around the back of his head again. He kisses her back, not resisting in the slightest as she pushes him down onto the just blankets, straddling him on hands and knees as she maintains the lip-to-lip contact. 

Just where she wants him.

* * *

It's getting increasingly difficult to keep his cool as she moves against him. But from the smile on her face and the look in her eyes, she doesn’t plan to make him wait much longer. 

And then, annoyingly, common sense surges forth. 

“I, uh, didn’t bring…” 

“You’re clean? I am. And Gideon has these wonderful shots that are good for months, and I’m still in the middle of one, so no worries about that.” Her grin is impish. “So?” 

He moves his hands to her hips. Understanding passes between them. 

And she sinks down on him in one smooth motion, a groan bursting from both their lips at the contact. 

She moves on him and his hands are still locked on her hips, his own hips surging up, and he realizes, as if from a great distance, that he’s saying her name, again and again, and she’s saying his, panting it, as she moves, and if there are other words on their lips, they just might be said before too much longer… 

She cries out, stilling for just a moment, a heartbeat before he does the same, hands holding her rock-steady on top of him. 

After that long moment of stillness, she moves, leaning forward for another lingering kiss, then stretches out next to him, skin against skin, all the distance gone for good. He pulls the blankets back up over them, then turns a little, mouth against her hair, feeling the warmth of her along every inch. 

“Len…” 

His hand strokes through her hair. “Sara.” 

Neither of them have more words for this moment. 

Not quite yet. 

* * *

 

“So, what are we calling this?” 

He’d been, mostly, asleep, content in the cocoon of warmth they’ve made for themselves, Sara’s head pillowed on his shoulder, her legs entangled with his. It’s pitch black out, and there's an occasional rumble of thunder, but most of the storm seems to have passed. 

His eyes flicker at her words. 

“Is it a one-night stand?” she continues quietly. “A friends-with-benefits situation? A...relationship?” 

“What do you want it to be?” He tries to keep what he’s feeling out of his voice. Not, he thinks, entirely successfully. 

“Well…,” he can hear the amusement now in her tone, “having finally made it here, I don’t think I want to call it a one-time thing. Unless you do.” 

“No.” His response is immediate. 

“Friends with benefits, I think we could do. It would be fun.” He can feel her smile against his collarbone. “But …” 

“But?” 

“Mmmm…do you think we could try for something more?” She turns her head a little to press a kiss against his neck, and all of a sudden, the world seems very different. 

“I…” he coughs a little, uncertain how to handle this strange situation in which he finds himself...then buys some time by volleying it back to her. "What do you mean?" 

"I think that, at this point, we're a little past 'friends,' even with benefits, and I really don't want to go backward on that." She tilts her head back a little to look at him. "But neither of us has, traditionally, been the best with feelings. Do you want to try to keep them out of...this?" 

_Too late_ , he thinks. 

"I don't think I can do that," he tells her, and the quiet comment has the air of a confession. She hears it, and their eyes meet... 

But they're still not quite _there._ Yet. 

“Good. Me too.” She moves to kiss him; one of his hands moves to her bare back and, just like that, they’re not so tired, after all. 

* * *

The shout from outside brings him up from a sound, sound sleep. 

“Snart! Are you in there?” 

Sara makes a muffled, annoyed noise as he curses and throws back the covers, realizing with some surprise the daylight outside and the lack of rain on the roof. He snatches up one of the comms lying tangled on the counter and stuffs it back in an ear, noting without surprise that it’s back online.  

“Mick?” he sighs. “Are you alone on this channel?” 

“Snart! Is Sara there? Are you guys OK? We were worr…” 

Ray’s voice is cut off mid-word. _Thank you, Mick._  

“I am now,” the other man sighs. “Let me guess…” 

He doesn’t want to know what Mick may or may not have guessed…although he has a pretty good idea it’s accurate. “Look. We’re here. We’re fine. The comms were down last night and there was a storm.” 

“Oh, there was, was there?” 

Yeah. Accurate. “Yes. There was. We had to blow up the jump ship, so we just stayed here.” 

“Right. Boss.” Amusement is layered so thick in Mick’s voice that his partner suddenly figures, in for a pound… 

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to get us both a change of clothes? We got caught out in the rain.” 

Silence. 

“Mick?” 

“You do realize you’re going to owe me for _years_ for this?” 

“I do realize that.” 

More silence. 

“OK. Back soon. If you’re lucky, I’ll lose Haircut. He’s seething with curiosity.” 

“Please…do.” 

As the comm goes dead again, he stands for a moment, then turns back to the bed. Sara is lying with her head propped up on an elbow, regarding him with an interesting expression. He realizes, belatedly, that he’s standing there stark naked, and what’s more, he doesn’t particularly care. 

It’s _her_. 

“Nice view,” she tells him with a smirk. “Was that Mick?” 

“Yeah. We’re going to owe him, I fear.” 

“We’ll manage.” She’s eyeing him up and down with that _look_ in her eyes, and he’d like nothing more than to go back to the bed and go for round three. But… 

“You’re….OK…with them knowing?” 

“The team? About…us?” She sits up, giving him quite a nice view of his own. “It was bound to happen sometime if we keep on with _this_. Aren’t you?” 

He does _not_ want to talk to Raymond about _this_. “I suppose.” 

She smiles, and oh, that smile. He’ll deal with Raymond as much as he needs to for that smile. “Embarrassed, Snart?” 

“No. Just…,” he considers, "having feelings is one thing. Talking about them is something else."  

“Aahhh...” She rises, and she’s smiling, and gorgeous, and for some strange reason, she’s willing to entertain a future with _him_ … 

It takes his breath away. _She_ takes his breath away. 

“We’ll figure it out,” she tells him. “The team, the future, us… we’ll figure it out.” 

“Yeah?” He lifts his hands to set them lightly on her shoulders; she smiles, then leans forward for a kiss. 

“Yeah…me and you.” 


End file.
